A Love Remembered
by MrsMCrieff
Summary: Sherlock is suffering from memory loss but when he sees a woman he doesn't remember he is left with a powerful impression of his feelings for her. Rated M for Sherlolly smut in later chapters. Second place in the Best Drama and third place for Best Romance in the 2020 SAMFAs.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey Guys are you ready for another Sherlolly adventure? This one is inspired by MizJoely and her Sherlollylists on tumblr. How she manages to keep track of all the Sherlolly fics on Fanfiction, AO3 and tumblr I have no idea. Anyway, for those that don't know it breaks down all the fics by their various tropes and I love trying to get my fics into the various lists. This one was inspired by AmnesiaLock. **

**On having a look a lot of the stories have Molly losing her memory but this one is switched about. It's Sherlock losing his memories and how he handles and interprets the bits and pieces of memory as they come back to him. **

**I hope you like it. It won't be massively long...just 8 delicious chapter bites of Sherlolly goodness with maybe just a dash of angst thrown in. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 1**

'Sherlock...Sherlock...can you hear me? It's John.'

He came too blinking against the harsh light in what was obviously a room in a hospital. There was a middle aged man leaning over him who seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at seeing him awaken.

'Thank God Sherlock. You've been out for over 12 hours. What do you remember?'

He swallowed but his mouth and throat felt like sand-paper. The man, John, passed him a glass of water, holding the straw against his lips so he could take a couple of sips. He felt the cool liquid travel all the way down to his stomach.

He tried to move himself up into a sitting position but as he did there was a sharp, blinding, jolt of pain in his forehead on the left hand side and he fell back with a gasp. He moved his hand to the side of his head reflexively but pulled back before he touched his temple sensing it would just lead to more pain.

'You were hit...with a crowbar. For a moment there I thought you were dead.'

On hearing that he narrowed his eyes and tried to remember but there was just a blank...like thick fog.

John flashed a light across his eyes and asked him to follow his finger but his eyes kept juddering and losing focus and he felt an overwhelming tiredness washing over him.

'Sherlock...stay with me. Don't fall asleep.'

Finally he found his voice. 'Who's Sherlock? Is that me? It's a stupid name.' Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, giving in to sleep once more.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The next two days seemed to be a flurry of tests and questions and endless examinations. The only time he had any reprieve was at night.

He relished the peace and quiet, broken only by the distant noises of other patients and the constant hum of equipment.

That first night he was awake when she visited. At first he'd just thought she was just another doctor. She was wearing a staff badge and a white coat and he opened his eyes to find her looking at his notes; the ones held on a clipboard and stored at the end of his bed. It was her eyes that gave her away though. She looked worried and sad when they met his own...not the clinical detachment that he would have expected from a doctor.

'You know me?'

She gave him a shy smile and nodded her head. 'Yes...we...umm...we work together.'

He frowned. That didn't feel quite right. Slowly, so as to not cause himself any pain, he shook his head.

'No...I don't think we do. At least, that's not all we are. You look more upset that I think you would over a colleague. Anyway, that guy...John? He said I'm a detective of some kind. So, I don't work here.'

At this she smiled more openly and he couldn't help but think how very pretty she was when she smiled. He felt a warmness from her that made his heart seem to skip a beat, he didn't have any conscious memories of her but it felt more like an emotional, reflex, memory.

'I'm a pathologist. We work together when you're investigating a murder. Like you were when you got hurt.' The was a pause and she sighed. 'I hate seeing you get hurt Sherlock.'

He chuckled and then winced. 'If it's any consolation I hate getting hurt as well.'

'How are you feeling?'

She took a tentative step forward and seemed about to reach out and touch his hand but at the last minute she drew back. He wished she hadn't changed her mind.

'I feel confused, frustrated and yet bored...which makes no sense.'

She laughed and he enjoyed the sound of it. 'For you...that makes perfect sense. Anyway, I'd better get back to work.'

As she moved towards the door he felt a sudden feeling of loss...he didn't want her to go. She meant something to him he was sure, he just didn't quite know what.

'Will you come back? To visit me I mean.' He hated how needy he sounded. Whoever he was he didn't think he liked to depend on others.

She turned and nodded. 'Yes, if you want me to.'

It was only after she had gone that he realised he hadn't asked her for her name.

The next night he'd been asleep when she visited. He only had vague memories of her sitting and holding his hand before he was pulled back under into sleep. He felt irritated that he hadn't had another chance to talk to her.

She was there though two days later when he was visited by John and another man. This one was dressed more smartly than John with an irritatingly imperious look upon his face. They seemed an odd pairing. He sensed that they weren't friends.

'Hey Sherlock. How are you feeling?'

He rolled his eyes and pulled himself up to sitting. 'For God's sake I wish everyone would stop asking me that question. I feel the same as I did yesterday and the day before...bored, irritated and fed up that I don't seem to be able to remember anything as simple as who the fuck I am.'

At that the taller man arched an eyebrow. 'I see the blow to your head hasn't improved your personality. Good.'

'And who the hell are you? Not another consultant...'

The man sat down on one of the plastic chairs but not before grimacing at that being all there was to sit on.

'No, I'm not. Why don't you tell me who I am Sherlock?'

Sherlock felt himself getting angry. 'You know I can't do that...no memories remember.'

The older man sighed. 'I'm not talking about memories Sherlock. I'm talking about your impressions of me...your deductions.'

Sherlock huffed. He felt like he was a kid being lectured by his parent or an older sibling...he felt a flicker of something and took a closer look...that was it.

'You're my brother.'

John stepped forward excitedly. 'You can remember him...'

But the other man put his hand up. 'No, no...he just deduced who I must be. That's good. It means you haven't lost your faculties...your abilities, just your memories.'

Sherlock slapped his hands against the sheets. 'Oh well that's OK then. I mean who needs memories after all. So, brother, at least give me your name.'

'Mycroft...your older brother obviously. Older and smarter. In case you're wondering our parents are still alive and well and have been informed, to an extent, of your situation but knowing you as I do I knew you wouldn't want them fussing over you until you're more recovered. Now, shall we see what else you still have access to?'

As Sherlock nodded his head the door to his room pushed open and she walked in. She gave him a shy smile but stayed leaning against the wall away from the others. John turned his head and smiled at her as well and Sherlock felt a jolt of jealousy as he saw their interaction. They were close...he didn't like that.

He turned back to Mycroft. 'What do you suggest?'

Mycroft leant back in his seat and crossed his legs adjusting the cut of his trousers before looking back at him.

'You and I store information in a different way to most people and I'm thinking that you might still be able to access that even if you can't access your memories. You refer to yours as a mind palace.' The sarcasm was dripping off his words as he spoke and Sherlock wondered if he'd often wanted to punch him in the face as they were growing up.

'Close your eyes. Picture a building...a palace if you must. When you see it I want you to go inside and tell me what you see.'

Sherlock did as he asked. Instead of the blankness, as he focused his mind, the fog seemed to dissipate until he saw a large black door with a brass knocker sitting slightly askew on its brass plate.

'I see a door.'

'Good, go inside.'

Sherlock pushed at the door and entered a long corridor. It seemed endless with doors leading off on either side. He described what he was seeing.

'Do you see any names on the doors?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'No, they have name plaques but the letters are fuzzy, indistinct...'

'That's fine. I want you to instinctively go to the door that you think is mine and tell me what you see inside.'

Sherlock walked the corridor and he'd only gone past half a dozen doors when one seemed to call to him. He put his hand against the cool wood, marvelling at how real it felt to him. Slowly he pushed the door open.

'I see an office. There's a picture of a woman behind the desk...she seems regal...a queen?'

'Good, very good. That sounds like my office. What else do you see?"

'There are filing cabinets all along one wall. An umbrella and a gun on the desk. And cake...lots of cake.'

There was a snort from John and Sherlock opened his eyes to see him laughing and Mycroft looking angry.

'Yes, well I think that's quite enough of my room. Shall we try to find John's? This is good, it means you haven't lost everything...it's just an exercise in piecing your knowledge back together.'

Sherlock had to agree with him on that. It felt exhilarating to find information still in his mind when he'd been fearing that he'd lost everything.

He closed his eyes eager to try again.

Once again he was faced with the doors. He tried to think of John, the man who'd visited him every day, who'd told him he was his best friend but he couldn't keep his mind focused. Instead he was thinking about her. She was watching him now, he could feel her eyes on him...those bottomless brown eyes. They seemed to seep into his soul.

As he thought of her he turned and pushed open a door into a room which felt as though he was coming home. He could smell her subtle scent. She was all around him. The room was a bedroom, with a small, Ginger cat asleep on a floral duvet. All around the room was equipment; a microscope, a tray of scalpels. It was interspersed with clothing; an ugly cardigan covered in cherries, a pink and purple scarf, a black, velvet dress hung up on the wardrobe with what looked like a silver, gift bow stuck on it.

He opened his eyes and looked straight at her and he saw her duck her head in sudden embarrassment.

'We love each other.'

It was a statement rather than a question and he saw her mouth fall open in shock but rather than confirm it she took a step forward. She held up her hands and shook her head.

'No...I mean, we don't. It's one way...unrequited.'

His stomach dropped and he frowned. 'Oh, you don't love me...'

Before anything else could be said there was a tap at the door and it was pushed open by his doctor, a Dr Hendrix.

'Hey, sorry to interrupt but I need to talk to my patient if that's alright. Time to discuss your discharge and on-going care.'

He saw her nod her head once and she cast him a quick glance before she left the room. He wondered if they had ever had a relationship. His impression in her room had been so strong that he couldn't believe she'd never felt anything for him.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock was left feeling very disgruntled about the plans for his discharge. John was to pick him up about 2pm the next day and take him back to his home on Baker St to 'settle him in'. He didn't want to be settled in...at least not by John. And to top it off he forgot to ask his brother and John who the woman was that he now knew he was in love with.

He swung his legs out of the bed. His head injury was almost recovered, even if it did look hideous still; half of the left side of his face covered in an angry purple, green and yellow bruising. It meant he wasn't confined to either the bed or his room. He shoved his feet into the leather slippers and picked up his dressing gown; grateful that someone, probably John, had retrieved them from his home.

The Pathology department wasn't hard to find. He instinctively knew that it would be down in the bowels of the hospital and that that would be where she would be. He had a few odd looks from some members of staff but no one actively tried to stop him.

He walked along the corridor towards the morgue looking in each of the offices and labs as he went when a largish, middle-aged man came out of one of the rooms looking at a file as he went. He glanced up at Sherlock and then stopped and greeted him with a wide smile.

'Ah Sherlock. I'd heard you were visiting us upstairs. Glad to see you up and about. Nasty bruise you've got there.'

Sherlock frowned a little not knowing who on earth this man was but he played along. 'Yes, it seems I lost the battle with a crowbar.'

The other man chortled. 'Ouch. Well, I take it you're looking for our Molly?'

_So that's her name...Molly...it felt right, suited her even._ 'Yes, I am. Do you know where she might be?'

The other man indicated towards a door just down the corridor on the right. 'Her normal place. No autopsies today so she's just catching up on paperwork. Anyhow, I must be getting on, I'll no doubt see you again soon.'

Sherlock gave a non-committal nod and made his way to the room where she was. As he took hold of the handle he felt his heart flip over at the thought of seeing her again. God he had it bad!

**I do both love and fear this moment...when I've posted the start to a new story and I wait to see whether it's well received or not and whether people like the concept and want to know what happens next. So, put me out of my misery and let me know and I promise I shall post again soon xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Such a great response from you guys, I'm so happy you like the idea. Here's hoping I can keep you on board with this chapter.**

**And I made the Amnesia section of the sherlollylists...yay...thanks Miz. Now I'll have to look at which other trope I haven't covered yet to get on another list...any requests?**

**Chapter 2**

As he pushed open the door he felt a sense of calm and familiarity wash over him. He saw Molly sat at one of the desks, head down, concentrating on the folder in front of her and it felt like something he had seen a thousand times before even though he had no active recollection of it.

At the sound of him entering she looked up and he saw her face light up at the sight of him before turning more questioning.

'Hey Sherlock, are you supposed to be up and about?'

'Don't you start. It was my head that got injured not my legs. John's talking about taking me out of this place tomorrow in a wheelchair which is just bloody ridiculous.'

She chuckled and he found her joy infectious.

'Listen Molly...'

'Ooh so you found out my name then...or did you remember it?' She bit her lip and looked at him eagerly and he felt sorry to have to disappoint her.

'No, no I didn't. Some guy in the corridor assumed, correctly, that I'd be looking for you. A bit chubby, dark hair, glasses...'

She nodded. 'Mike...Mike Stamford. You worked with him until I started here about five years ago. He was an old friend of Johns which is how you and John met.'

Sherlock was grateful for her filling in the blanks without him having to ask.

'Anyway, what's up? Would you like a coffee? I was just about to make one.'

He grinned at her. 'Coffee would be perfect. All they serve upstairs are endless cups of over-stewed tea.' He suddenly felt confused. 'I'm not sure how I like it...'

'Black, two sugars. I make you coffee a lot. Grab a seat, I'll be back in a minute.'

He watched as she left the room and then he wandered over to where she'd been sat looking at some of the equipment as he went.

He stopped at one of the microscopes. It had a pile of slides at the side of it and he couldn't help but sit down and pick one up. He positioned it under the scope and spent a moment adjusting the dials to bring it into focus. He marvelled again at how his mind just seemed to retain this kind of information but not his memories. He just knew how the machine worked.

He looked at the magnified image. Blood cells. They seemed to have been altered by something, some kind of poison...

'It looks like you haven't forgotten everything. That's your favourite microscope and those are the slides you were working on just before you were injured.'

He sat up and looked at her. She was leant on the desk at the side of him, two cups of coffee placed between them.

He looked back at the microscope and realised with a jolt that it was the same one from his mind palace. The one he'd seen in her room. It even had the same scratch on one of the dials.

'This was in your room...in my mind palace...' he clarified when she looked confused.

'Oh, well that would make sense. We often work in here together. Did you just want to have a look around or was there something you wanted?'

She sat down on the stool next to him and picked up her drink, blowing the steam off the top before sipping on it. He found himself caught up in watching her lips. He wondered if he had kissed them and if so how it had felt.

'Sherlock...?'

He moved his eyes up to hers and found her looking at him with concern.

'Umm, sorry...yes, I do want something. John's supposed to be taking me home tomorrow but I don't want him to...I...I want you to.'

He saw the shock on her face and guessed that this must be something he wouldn't normally ask of her.

'That is...I'm assuming you've been to my home...do you know where it is?'

She gave him a reassuring smile. 'Yes, yes I've been there. But why don't you want John to take you? I mean...he's your best friend. He lived there with you until you died.'

He reared back in shock. 'I died...what do you mean I died?'

She held her hand up, her eyes wide and she spoke in a rushed tone. 'No, I mean, you didn't actually die. It was all fake. It was a few years back, you had to pretend to be dead in order to go undercover and destroy a criminal network. You were gone for two years...John didn't know, he thought you were really dead. He was furious, but relieved, when he found out you weren't.'

'God, what kind of detective am I?'

She shrugged. 'A good one, a clever one...very clever.'

He frowned. 'Did you think I was dead?'

She shook her head. 'No, I was one of the lucky few who was in on the plan. But like I said why would you not want John to take you home?'

It was Sherlock's turn to shrug. 'I don't know. I just don't. He seems angry with me for not remembering things...like it's a personal affront to him. I...I just feel more relaxed with you. Would it help if I said please?'

She thought for a moment and then nodded her head. 'OK, I'll ring John and let him know. It'll be easier for him anyway as I know he's missed quite a bit of work so far this week. What time are you being discharged?'

He felt more relieved than he'd realised he would at her acquiescence. 'Two o'clock.'

He picked up his coffee and finished it off before standing. 'I suppose I ought to let you get back to work. But thank you for doing this Molly.'

He hesitated but then bent over to kiss her on the cheek. As soon as his lips touched her skin he had a vivid memory of having done it before.

He gasped and pulled back in shock, his fingers covering his lips.

She stood up and put her hand out. 'What? What is it? Do you remember something?'

'Yes. I've done that before...kissed you on your cheek. We were in a corridor of some kind. You were wearing a coat and a pink and purple scarf...'

'You're right. It was just after you'd returned from being dead. You were thanking me and congratulating me on my engagement to Tom.'

He felt his stomach lurch and his eyes immediately dropped to her fingers looking for an engagement or wedding ring but there was nothing there.

She must have seen because she gripped her left hand in her right nervously. 'It fell through, a while back now.' She turned away looking awkward...embarrassed. Had he split them up somehow?

'Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Yes, tomorrow.'

Sherlock felt slightly disgruntled at how they were parting but not entirely sure what to do so in the end he made his way back up to his room.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The next afternoon Molly arrived just after one o'clock carrying a suit-bag and a leather hold-all.

'Hey, John put together some clothes for you. The clothes you arrived in had to be sent for cleaning and we figured you wouldn't want to be travelling back in your dressing gown.'

She smiled at him and he stood, curious to see what kind of outfits he usually wore. He hadn't really thought about that at all.

The suit bag held a dark blue suit; expensive but not as formal as his brothers. There was also a white shirt, slim fit. All good so far. Inside the hold-all was toiletries, underwear and some black leather shoes.

'You tend to wear a coat as well. A Belstaff...it's lovely, suits you, but well, it was a bit heavy to carry and we'll be in taxis most of the time...'

'It's fine Molly. I'm sure I'll cope. I'll just take a quick shower.'

She looked a little uncomfortable. 'Oh OK. I'll just go..,'

'No, can you stay...please? They're being difficult about me showering alone and I'd rather you stood guard than one of the nurses. You can wait in here, I just won't lock the door.'

She nodded and sat on the edge of the bed.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly was finding this whole situation with Sherlock more than a little confusing. Ever since she'd heard about his injury from John she had been worrying about him. At first it was whether it had caused any serious damage to his brain and then, once they realised he had no memories of them, it was whether he would regain any and whether not having them would change him in some way.

She was glad that he still seemed very him. The way he spoke and deduced things was just as before but the biggest change seemed to be how he was reacting around both her and John. She knew that John was equal parts relieved and hurt at not being allowed to babysit Sherlock. He was angry with Sherlock for not remembering Mary, even though he knew deep down that this wasn't Sherlock's fault...and he really had been struggling to juggle Rosie, work and coming to the hospital so she was actually helping by taking Sherlock home. She wondered how he was finding it all, it must be frustrating and even frightening to not remember things.

She was soon distracted from her thoughts by Sherlock coming back in with a towel wrapped around his waist and using a second to rub his hair dry.

She was so shocked that she couldn't help but sit there and watch him for a few moments. She could see the individual droplets of water still running down his chest and over his stomach until they were lost in the folds of the towel slung low on his hips. She could even see a slight trail of black hairs...

It was only when he started using the towel to dry his chest that she realised how inappropriate it was for her to be watching him.

'I...umm...I should go wait outside. Give you some privacy.'

He shrugged. 'Don't be ridiculous. I'm sure you've seen worse in your morgue. Just turn around if you feel you need to, it doesn't bother me either way. It seems I'm not prudish about my body...all these new things I keep learning...'

She smiled nervously and then stood before turning to face the wall.

'How are you feeling about today?'

She could hear the bag being opened and items taken out.

'Relieved to be getting out of here mostly. Curious about where and how I live. I recall John said I live alone but with a landlady downstairs. Am I close to her...John certainly seemed to imply that...any previous relationship I should be aware of there?'

Molly couldn't help but laugh out loud. 'Not that I've ever heard of. No, she's more like a mother figure to you...very protective. You treat her more like your housekeeper than your landlady and she's forever telling you off for it but she still looks after you.'

'Hmm...OK. You can turn back now...I'm decent.'

Molly turned around to find that decent to Sherlock meant he had his trousers on with the fastenings hanging open and no shirt. Her eyes were drawn to his torso again. He had broad, muscular shoulders and his chest led down to a flat stomach and narrow waist.

He pulled on his shirt and did up the buttons before tucking it into the trousers and doing them up. He was just sorting out his shoes and socks when his doctor came in.

He spoke to both Molly and Sherlock about Sherlock's ongoing care and medication. He had an appointment to come back in two days to see his neurologist for more tests and still had some painkillers to help with his ongoing headaches though these were at least subsiding now. A few signatures on discharge forms and they were free to go and Sherlock was very happy that he didn't have to be wheeled out.

It was raining when they hit the street with Sherlock carrying the hold-all and Molly his suit bag. They stood on the steps of the hospital whilst Molly dug around in her handbag and found her small, telescopic umbrella and once it was up Sherlock put his arm around her shoulder so they could both fit underneath and they made their way to the taxi rank.

**Hope you like the way things are progressing. In the next chapter Sherlock will get down to quizzing Molly about there relationship and that should start to set the cat amongst the pigeons. I'll try not to keep you waiting too long...you can always try and guilt trip me into posting sooner in your reviews ;) xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, I'm back. Hope you guys had a good weekend with lots of chill out time. So glad that you're all still enjoying this fic so without further ado shall we crack on?**

**Chapter 3**

Inside the black cab Sherlock deferred to Molly when it came to telling the cab driver the address.

'I don't have any money on me. Have you got enough?'

'Yes, I can use a card to pay.'

He nodded his head and then looked out of the window.

Molly watched him for a moment, trying to imagine what this must all feel like for him. 'Does it seem familiar? The streets I mean. I just...I don't know how extensive your memory loss is.'

'It's strange. I know London and the landmarks and streets but it feels like knowledge from a book rather than living memories. Does that make sense?'

She nodded her head. 'And have you had any other flashes of memory since yesterday...when you kissed my cheek?'

He glanced at her and saw her blushing and it made him wonder once more about how she felt about him. He wanted to question her about it further but not now...not in front of some random cab driver.

'A couple. As I made my way back through the hospital I had a clear memory of having walked that route before...leaving to go to a case but I couldn't remember the details of it. And another last night. I heard a commotion outside as someone flatlined and I remembered being wheeled in with medical staff shouting instructions, talking of prepping for surgery. It can't have been for this injury...' he gestured towards his head and Molly shook her head.

He tilted his head questioningly. 'You know when that was?'

She shrugged a little. 'Maybe. You were shot in the chest, about 18 months ago. It was a horrible time, touch and go as to whether you'd survive.'

He touched the material of his shirt just over where Molly knew he'd got his scar. 'So that's what this scar is from. It doesn't sound like I'm very careful in my line of work...or do I have some kind of death wish? Any other bad habits that I should be aware of?'

He must have seen Molly wince because he held his hand up. 'You know what don't tell me. I think I'd rather live in blissful ignorance for a bit longer.'

She shared his smile and then glanced outside as they turned into Baker St. 'We're nearly there now. Home sweet home.'

He looked out of the window. 'Remind me again what the landlady is called?'

'Mrs Hudson.'

'And does she bake biscuits for me?'

Molly giggled. 'Yes, I believe she does. Why? Do you remember that?'

'Not as such.' He tapped the uninjured side of his forehead. 'Mind palace remember.'

Molly paid for the cab with Sherlock promising to pay her back and they were soon stood outside in the drizzle.

Molly put her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out a set of keys that she held out to Sherlock.

'Do you want to let yourself in?'

Sherlock took them and made his way up to the door. He dropped the hold-all to the floor and placed his hand on the wood.

'It's the same as the door to my mind palace.'

He closed his eyes momentarily but then reached up for the knocker, moving it so it sat slightly askew. 'I do this to see whether my brother has come round...he likes to straighten it.'

Molly nodded. 'Memory or mind palace?'

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked almost reverently at the door. 'Memory...I think.'

He put the key in the lock and pushed the door open and as they were making their way inside there was a shout from Mrs Hudson's flat. 'Sherlock, Molly, is that you?'

The door at the end of the corridor was pushed open and out she came bringing with her the scent of fresh baking.

'Sherlock, look at your face...honestly you'll be the death of me with all these endless trips into hospital. Come here.'

Whether he wanted it or not she reached up and pulled him down into a hug which he hesitantly returned.

'Now what's all this that John and Molly have been saying about you not remembering anything? I don't believe a word of it...not you, not with your mind. Do you remember me?'

Sherlock gave Molly a nervous glance and then he shook his head. 'No, not really. But I do have items associated with you in my mind palace...an Aston Martin? Plates of oat and raisin biscuits, some herbal soothers and for some reason there's a pair of handcuffs and a pole dancing pole.'

Mrs Hudson laughed out loud at that. 'Oh I was very good in my day. It played havoc with my hip in the end though. As for the baking, you and Molly go and get yourselves settled upstairs and I'll bring you up a tray of tea and biscuits...your favourite. I'm sure your memories will come flooding back to you once you get settled back into your flat with your own things around you.'

She bustled off back down the corridor and Molly indicated towards the stairs. 'Your flat is up here.'

She followed him up and wondered again how weird it must feel for him to be taken to strange places and to meet people he didn't recognise and not be able to remember. She knew he was feeling a lot more unsettled than he was letting on and she was determined to support him as much as she could.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

He paused at the open doorway to his front room and took a deep breath as he looked around. The smell of the room seemed to transport him through a montage of memories. Most of them were unremarkable, vague images of being in this room, eating, thinking, playing something...

'Do I play an instrument?'

He stepped into the room to allow Molly to enter and come up alongside him. He glanced down at her watching as she placed his suit bag onto a comfy looking settee.

She nodded her head and gestured towards the left hand window.

'Yes...a violin. You're very good.'

He shrugged off his jacket and slung it, along with his hold-all, onto the coffee table and then he slowly walked around the room looking at the pictures on the wall, picking up the odd piece of paper from the desk.

'How does it feel? Being here I mean...'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Strange. Familiar and yet not. There are vague images tugging at my consciousness but I can't seem to pin them down to anything specific.'

She took a step closer to him. 'Maybe Mrs Hudson is right. Maybe being here, living amongst your belongings will help.'

It was at that moment that they heard his landlady making her way up with the promised refreshments.

As she entered the room Molly took the tray from her and carried it over to the kitchen which seemed to have a microscope and more experiments set up. She started to pour out two cups of tea as the older lady spoke to him.

'Now, I've put your post on the mantle piece, there wasn't much. What would you like me to say to any visitors?'

At this he frowned. 'Visitors...what kind of visitors?'

'You know, your clients...or maybe you don't know. Tell you what I'll just send them away for now. Better that you get some rest, let that bruise go down a little. You don't want to scare people off. Right well I'm just downstairs if you need me. Look after him Molly.'

Molly smiled at her and said goodbye and he made his way over to take the cup of tea she was holding out to him. She'd popped a couple of biscuits onto the saucer and he absentmindedly picked one up and took a bite as he looked around the kitchen. It was all so frustrating...why couldn't he just remember?'

He said as much to Molly and she placed her hand on his arm to try to comfort him. He could feel the warmth of her palm through the thin material of his shirt and it reminded him that he wanted to talk to her about their relationship. He was sure there was something there. He knew it wasn't logical but it felt like it would be the key to him getting his memories back.

He perched on the edge of the kitchen table and put his cup and saucer down.

'Molly...'

She glanced at him and he found himself noticing lots of inconsequential details about her...only child, recently showered, toast for breakfast, eyes dilating as she looked at him...physical attraction then, nervousness and concern...this must be what they talked about. They said he used his powers of observation to work out people and solve crimes.

'Yes?'

Now it was him feeling nervous...laying himself out there knowing he might be rejected.

'Listen, I know in the hospital that you said my feelings for you were one sided, unrequited, but...but I can't help but feel that you have some attraction for me. Have we...I mean, were we ever together? In a relationship?'

At this he saw confusion writ large across her face and she shook her head.

'No, Sherlock, you've got it all wrong. You don't have feelings for me, it's the other way round.'

He was lost. 'What do you mean other way round?'

He saw a blush spread across her cheeks and she ducked her eyes away from his in a way that made him want to use his finger to lift her chin back up to meet his gaze.

'I mean it's me...I'm the one who has unrequited feelings about you. You just see me as a friend...nothing more.' She rushed on. 'And that's OK. I understand...I like being your friend.'

He felt utterly baffled and disconcerted. He knew how he felt. There wasn't much that he was sure about at the moment but he had known how he felt about her from almost the first moment he saw her. So why would she not know that?

'Is there some reason that I'm not aware of why we can't be together? Anything?'

He saw her hands flail for a moment as she took a deep breath. 'I...I don't know. Umm...you always said that caring wasn't an advantage...that you were married to your work. Not that you ever said that to me directly...John told me. I've never really known you to have a real relationship.'

He joked at the last line. 'What? But you've known me to have fake relationships?'

He laughed a little but the laugh died at the look on her face. 'I've had fake relationships?'

She bit her lip and gave him a grim smile. 'Yeah...sorry. You got engaged once...for a case.'

He sagged a little. 'The more I hear about myself the less I like it. Do I have any redeeming qualities apart from being intelligent?'

Molly did giggle at this. 'Of course you do. You're great looking and you've got a hot body.'

He raised an eyebrow at this and she laughed even more. 'Sorry, I couldn't resist. You're passionate about your work, focused, intense. You don't suffer fools gladly but you'll put your life on the line for your friends. You try to cover it up but you're a good man Sherlock Holmes.'

Her impassioned speech took his breath away and he knew that no matter what happened with his memories he wanted to be with her. He took hold of her hand and pulled her ever so slightly closer and he saw her breath catch in her throat as she shyly looked up at him.

'Whatever else I was, I was a fool for not allowing myself to be with you.'

There was a moment of stillness between them as they looked at each other before he slowly started to lean in to kiss her.

**Sorry, am I being a bitch ending the chapter there? Not really a cliff hanger but it will have to do. Hope you like the way it's all progressing and at least they've started to have the discussion about Sherlock's feelings. As ever let me know what you think and I'll be back in a few days with more xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for all of your comments and reviews so far. I. Trying to reply to them all but have got a little behind but please don't think I don't read and appreciate every single one because I do.**

**So, lots of you are expecting a cockblocking moment and I wouldn't like to disappoint you...shall we see who the culprit is on this occasion...**

**Chapter 4**

Before their lips could meet Sherlock heard the front door slam downstairs and footsteps ascending the stairs and the moment was broken. Molly pulled away from him stepping back and apologising though he wasn't quite sure what for.

An older man burst into the room. He was late forties, silver hair...policeman written all over him.

'Hey Sherlock, I heard you were back. Shit, that bruise on your face is hideous...must hurt like a bugger. Listen I know John said you're suffering from some kind of memory loss but I need you to look over the case again. You don't need to actively remember it, just go over the evidence and fill in the gaps for me...you know, do your deducing thing. Will you come?'

Sherlock glanced at Molly and she seemed to instinctively know what he was looking for.

'This is DCI Greg Lestrade. He works for Scotland Yard and gives you a lot of the cases you work on.'

Greg looked shocked. 'What? You mean you don't even remember me...not at all?'

Sherlock shrugged and shook his head. 'Nope nothing.'

Greg sighed and washed a hand over his face. 'Will you come anyway? It won't take long...just a couple of hours.'

Sherlock stood up. 'I suppose it can't do any harm but I'm not sure how much help I'll be.'

As he retrieved his jacket Molly brought over a dark wool coat and as she helped him put it on he had another flash of memory. This time he was in a darkened room with the man who'd said he was his brother. He was putting the coat on and he had a sense of finally being home after a long absence...maybe this was connected to the time he'd faked his own death. What a strange life he must lead.

Greg started to leave the flat but Sherlock turned and caught Molly's hand. 'Will you come back this evening...please? I...I don't want to be here alone on my first night. We could order up some take out, maybe have a bottle of wine?'

He heard a snort of laughter from Lestrade. 'Steady on there Sherlock that's going to sound suspiciously like a date if you're not careful.'

He turned feeling a burst of anger. 'And? Why would that be such a bad thing? Maybe if you'd taken your wife on more dates she wouldn't have been so unfaithful.'

Greg reared back a little. 'Wow, looks like you haven't lost all your memories there mate.'

Sherlock huffed. 'They're not memories, I just...' He wafted a hand at Lestrade, '...I just see it on you. I can't describe it...it's just written all over you.'

The older man rolled his eyes and his tone when he spoke was riddled with sarcasm. 'Brilliant, good to know. Shall we go then?'

Sherlock turned back to Molly. 'Well?'

She just looked at him with wide eyes as she nodded her head. 'OK'.

'Great, I'll see you about seven...bring the wine, whatever you like.'

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly watched as he followed Greg down the stairs and then she sat down on the arm of John's chair. This new version of Sherlock was knocking her for six. He was showing her all the affection and attention that she had longed for over the last five years but she had to remember that this wasn't really him. He might think he has feelings for her but she knew they were false. Maybe it was some sort of side effect of his memory loss...he was just clinging to someone who he could see loved him. She was just a glorified comfort blanket.

All the same, she smiled a little and hugged herself, dangerous though it was for her heart, a small part of her wanted to enjoy this whilst it lasted.

She pushed herself up to standing and went and nicked another biscuit to eat before she left Sherlock's home.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

It was later on that evening when Molly knocked on the door of Baker St. Even though she kept telling herself it wasn't a date she'd still made more of an effort with her outfit plus her hair was down and curled and she had a light amount of make up on. She was also carrying a bottle of Malbec.

Mrs Hudson opened the door and greeted her warmly.

'Oh Molly, you're looking nice. Did Sherlock invite you round?'

'Yes, is he back?'

Just then she heard the violin starting to be played upstairs and at the same time Mrs Hudson nodded her head.

'Go on up. He's been playing for the last hour and I'm glad to hear that he's lost none of his ability.'

Molly smiled in agreement and then made her way up the stairs. She didn't recognise what he was playing but it was beautiful...haunting. It made her think of love, pure and simple.

He was stood by the window in the shadows away from the light of the lamp and he took her breath away just as he always did. He was still wearing his suit trousers and shirt but with his dark red house coat over the top. It reminded her of when she'd come to see him after he came back from the dead and asked her to solve crimes with him. He stopped playing as she entered the room and made a quick notation on some music paper on a stand by the window before he put the instrument down.

'Hey, don't stop on my account...that was so lovely. Is it one of your own compositions?'

He nodded his head and made his way over to her taking the bottle of wine from her so she could take her coat off.

'It seems that not only do I play but I write music as well. It all just seemed to flow naturally as I picked up the instrument. And I'm glad you liked it seeing as it was you that inspired it.'

Molly turned round to look at him feeling shocked. 'Me?'

He chuckled. 'Yes you...why wouldn't you inspire me? You know how I feel about you.'

She shook her head. 'No, no I don't and I don't think you do either. I'm just...I don't know...you're probably feeling lost and confused and you're clinging to me and that's making you think that you have feelings for me.'

He sat down on the edge of the table just as he had that afternoon and he held his hand out to her, implicitly asking for hers.

She let him hold her hand and pull her closer to him until she was almost stood between his legs. She'd never been so close to him before...not in this way. Their faces were level with each other and his eyes searched her own making her blush.

'Molly, I may not know that much about myself but I know absolutely how I feel. Your room, the one in my mind palace, is so much more detailed than the others and the information in there is personal...emotional. It tells me that how I feel is not something new. I don't know why I suppressed it and didn't tell you but right now I don't care about that; I only care about you and me, right now, in this moment. And right now, Molly, I want to kiss you. Will you let me?'

Molly had never been so torn in her life. Her heart and body were crying out to just give in and her mind was telling her that she needed to be the sensible one and say no.

He must have sensed her conflict because he pulled her a little closer and slid one hand around her waist as he leant into her. His face was mere inches from hers, his eyes only half open. 'Come on Molly. If you feel for me as you say you do then you want this as much as I do. One kiss, what harm can it do?'

She bit her lip and swallowed heavily but she already knew that she was going to give in. She gave the slightest nod of her head but it was enough for Sherlock and he took his chance; pressing his lips against hers.

It only lasted a couple of seconds but then he pulled away, muttered an 'oh god,' and then he was kissing her again and this time they both gave into it fully.

His mouth moved against hers perfectly. She felt one hand slide up her back as his other moved into her hair tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss and Molly felt her whole body responding to him. Her hands were on his chest and she let one of them move up so she could caress his cheek, feeling those beautiful cheekbones underneath her fingertips before she slid them into his curls.

Whatever she'd imagined kissing Sherlock would be like she was wrong. It felt like they were two halves coming together to make a whole. Her heart was thudding against her chest and hormones were racing through her system making her want more of him...so much more.

By the time they pulled apart a few moments later they were both breathing heavily.

Sherlock gave her a wry smile. 'Well one thing I do know...we've never done that before, I would have remembered.'

Molly gave a weak laugh but when he moved to kiss her again she stopped him.

'What? You don't want to?' He tilted his head and smiled at her wickedly.

'I do, you obviously know I do...but we shouldn't. At least...we shouldn't go too fast. I'm still worried that you're going to get your memories back and you'll regret this.'

'I promise you I won't but if you want to go slow then we can go slow. Maybe we should order up the food and you can tell me more about myself.'

They ended up choosing pizza and whilst they waited for it to be delivered Sherlock poured them both a glass of the red wine.

He sipped a bit as they sat down on the settee and scrunched his nose a little. 'Do I like red wine?'

Molly chuckled. 'You know I don't know. I've seen you drinking lager and whisky, not together obviously, but I'm not sure I've ever seen you drink wine. Or maybe my wine is too cheap for your expensive tastes.'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. 'Yes, I do seem to like the finer things in life. John has access to my accounts and tells me that I don't need to worry about money...and my clothes all seem to be tailored and expensive. Being a detective seems to be lucrative.'

'Well you are the world's only...' Molly chuckled as she said that but Sherlock just looked confused.

'World's only what?'

'You call yourself the world's only Consulting Detective.'

'Oh God, so I'm pretentious as well as obnoxious and a risk taker.'

'Let's just say you've never had any self esteem issues.'

He put his wine down and turned to face her a bit more. 'So, tell me how we met.'

Molly drank some more of her wine and smiled at him as she remembered the first time she'd seen him.

'I had just started at Barts. You came into the morgue with Mike and when I saw you...god, this is embarrassing...'

He chuckled. 'What? Go on.'

'When I saw you I got so distracted that I dropped a full tray of equipment all over the floor. You just turned to Mike and said "and you tell me she was your best candidate" with sarcasm dripping off you. I was mortified, scrabbling about on the floor picking up scalpels and bone saws.

Anyway, a case had come in from Scotland Yard. It was the body of an elderly man who'd been murdered and you sat in and watched whilst I did the autopsy. At first I found it difficult to concentrate with you circling me and watching what I was doing but I soon became more focused on the body, almost forgetting you were there. By the end you called Mike and told him that you wouldn't work with anyone else but me going forward.

I was so chuffed and already completely smitten by you. Let's just say that you used my crush to your advantage for the first year but then we became friends and now...well, not only do you treat me with respect but I know that you'd do whatever it takes to keep me safe. That phone call proved that to me.'

It was only when Sherlock asked what phone call that she realised this was going to be a full night of revelations for him.

**Poor Sherlock just keeps finding out more and more about himself. **

**I hope you're liking the progression between the two of them and that it feels natural given the circumstances. Anyway, I'll be back at the end of the weekend with the next chapter...have a good one!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, I have had such a busy weekend. Had an absolutely brilliant time as I got to see the stage show of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (which was a...mazing!) but at two shows totally over 5 hours it was tiring. But I'm back home now and looking forward to catching up on some sleep this week...I must be getting old ;).**

**Before I get that sleep though I have about a thousand chores to do and I need to post the next chapter of this little Fic. Posting before dusting that's what I say! Shall we see what's going to happen next?**

**Chapter 5**

Molly told him the story of his sister as succinctly as she could but it lasted through the delivery and eating of the pizzas. Sherlock asked various questions some of which she could answer and some of which she couldn't and at the end he fell silent and she could see turmoil and emotion written all over his face.

She reached out her hand but hesitated before she touched his arm. 'Are you OK?'

He punched the seat of the settee between them making her jump and pull her hand back. 'No, dammit, I'm not OK. Why can't I remember? I hate the fact that my brain...my supposedly brilliant brain is useless. I hate that I'm sat here in a room I'm supposed to know surrounded by people who are strangers hearing stories about some fucking nightmare of a man who's supposed to be me.'

He leant forward and used his fists to slowly hit his forehead. Molly felt helpless in the face of his sudden outburst but she wasn't surprised by it. He'd been holding himself together too well...anyone would be stressed and scared by what he was going through.

She moved forwards and took one of his hands.

'Listen, I can't even imagine how you're feeling but I'll do whatever I can to help you. And...and you weren't and aren't a nightmare of a man. You're the man I love.'

He turned and she saw his expression morph from anger to lust in an instant.

'So love me then...be my distraction...' and then he pulled her to him into a blistering kiss.

Molly was too shocked by the turnabout to stop him and within a few seconds he had pushed her down onto the settee and settled his body over hers. His hands were either side of her head holding some of his weight off her but she could feel his hips pressed against her own and it set off a chain reaction in her body that sent desire spiralling through her.

His kiss was desperate, his tongue sliding against her own and she couldn't help but give into it once more. She knew she'd have to stop him before they went too far but not yet. She wanted to enjoy the moment, to indulge herself and him.

Her hands moved under his dressing gown then down and over his backside and she pulled him against her feeling the evidence of his own arousal hard against her centre and it had her moaning into his mouth.

He broke off the kiss and let his lips move along her jaw and down her neck and his left hand moved from the arm of the settee to settle over her breast.

'God, Molly, you're the only thing in my life that makes sense right now. The one thing that I'm certain of.'

Molly closed her eyes and let herself enjoy just how good it felt to have Sherlock Holmes want her. He started to suck and bite his way down her neck but when she felt him move his hand to the buttons on her blouse she knew she needed to stop him.

She took hold of his hand and pulled it away and he stilled, lifting his head so he could look at her.

'You're seriously saying no. From everything you've said you've wanted me for years and now here I am saying yes and you're saying no?' He said that last line incredulously and Molly bit her lip and took a deep breath.

'Yes, I'm saying no. Not no to everything obviously. But no to sex.'

'And what if I never get my memories back...what then? Surely we can't wait forever.' As if to prove his point he rocked his hips against hers and lowered his head so he could lick up from her collarbone to her jaw.

She felt her whole body shudder and she had to take a quick, gasping breath before she could speak. 'OK, well maybe not forever...but not now.'

'Fine. No sex, just kissing and torment.'

Molly couldn't help but smile at the very sherlockian disgruntlement in his voice but she didn't stop him from kissing her again. Instead she encouraged it, moving one of her hands into his hair so she could pull on his curls enjoying how it made him groan. She knew they were just teasing themselves but there was nothing wrong with that now they both knew where they stood.

She could have kissed him all night but she also knew that she ought to leave before things progressed too far and it was that fact that had her pushing him off in the end.

He was still grumbling as she put her jacket on. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist nuzzling her neck. 'Are you sure you have to go? My bed's just a few metres away.'

She smiled and shook her head. She'd never expected this kind of behaviour from him and maybe part of why she was reluctant to pursue things was because he wasn't acting like himself.

She turned her head and gave him a quick kiss only to finding him pouting afterwards. 'You know I'm going to have to have a cold shower when you go.'

That line had her giggling and she could hardly believe that she was turning him down. Leaving him was one of the hardest things she'd ever done.

'Listen, if you get bored tomorrow come into Barts. We can go through some of your experiments. You never know what might trigger some memories.'

'Fine, until tomorrow then Molly...I feel like I should be adding your surname. What is your surname?'

'Molly Hooper.'

He stood back and she turned to face him to find him frowning and mouthing her name to himself.

'What is it? Do you remember something?'

'There was a coffin...it was for you...'

Molly felt confused for a moment but then she remembered John telling her that Eurus had put a coffin in the room where Sherlock had made the call...she hadn't mentioned that part.

He looked down at his hands. 'I remember destroying it...I felt so angry and helpless. I'd hurt you.'

She put her hands over his holding them. 'You saved me Sherlock. You thought she was going to kill me and you saved me.'

He closed his eyes and leant his head against hers. 'The more I learn about my life the more it frightens me...stay with me...please. Not for sex just...I don't want to be alone.'

Molly took a moment to try to gather her thoughts but what could she say. He sounded so vulnerable and she'd never been able to deny him when he truly needed her.

'OK, I'll stay.'

'Thank you.'

He pressed his lips against hers but the passion from earlier had dissipated and it didn't last more than a couple of seconds. When he pulled away she smiled shyly at him.

'So, have you got anything I can sleep in? I didn't really come prepared for a sleep over.'

He returned her smile. 'I'm sure I can find something. Why don't you make some cups of tea and I'll find you a t shirt or shirt or something.'

She nodded her head and took her coat off once more before hanging it back up. As he walked into his bedroom she watched him go and then let out a sigh...what had she just agreed to? She'd never shared a bed with him before and certainly not when they were embarking on some sort of relationship and had spent most of the evening teasing each other.

As it was it felt somehow normal to be getting ready for bed, Molly told Sherlock all about how he'd solved a fake Jack the Ripper skeleton case with her over cups of tea as they sat in bed together; her wearing one of his shirts and him in his pyjamas. Neither of them touched the other or made a move to kiss the other person. Molly figured they both realised that there would be a danger that if they started they wouldn't stop. The only exception was when Sherlock turned the light out. He wrapped himself around Molly with his arm around her waist spooning her then he kissed the top of her head and whispered, 'good night Molly Hooper.'

She smiled in the darkness and gave her equally quiet response, 'good night Sherlock'.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

The night passed off surprisingly well. Molly had rarely felt safer as she slept and she slept well because of it. She woke up as daylight started to filter in through the gaps in the curtains and she took a moment to enjoy being in Sherlock's bed with him. He'd rolled away from her in the night and his face looked so peaceful as he slept that she couldn't bear to wake him. Instead she slid out of the bed and made her way through to the bathroom so she could take a quick shower. She figured after she could make them both a coffee and wake him up then.

As she got out of the shower and started to dry herself she heard movement in the kitchen. She smiled to herself thinking that Sherlock must have woken up in her absence and she was about to wrap the towel around herself and go say good morning when she heard John calling out.

'Morning, Sherlock. Hope you're decent, I'm bringing a coffee in.'

That had her freezing where she stood. She really didn't want to have to confront John when she wasn't dressed...what would he even think about her staying over?

She heard voices in the bedroom and then the two of them making their way back into the kitchen and she took the opportunity to use the connecting door back into Sherlock's bedroom. At least she could get dressed before confronting John.

A couple of minutes later and she tied her damp hair up into a ponytail before taking a deep breath and exiting the bedroom.

She made her way through into the kitchen hearing John chatting to Sherlock as she did.

'...normally start the day going through your e-mails. We both have websites though mines more...'

He broke off as Molly entered the room and she could almost see his thought processes as he looked at her in shock.

'Molly! What are you...did you sleep over?'

She smiled shyly at him. 'Yes, Sherlock asked me to and I...'

'He asked you to...that was all it took? He's got no memory Molly...how could you take advantage of him like that?'

Her mouth fell open at his blatant accusation. It was the exact reason why she had been so reluctant to embark on anything with Sherlock being thrown right back in her face.

'I...we didn't do anything...'

Sherlock took a step towards Molly but turned towards the shorter man. 'Molly and I are together John, I don't see why you should have a problem with it or, in fact, why it's any of your business?'

'Any of my business...Sherlock you've suffered a head injury, you don't remember anything about who you really are. I expected more of you Molly I really did.'

He was close to shouting by the end of the sentence and Molly felt anger and frustration overwhelming her but between him and Sherlock she could barely get a word in edgeways.

'Don't talk to my Molly like that. You're talking about the woman I love.'

John's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at that statement and he took a step back in shock. 'You love? You don't love Molly. You've never loved anyone in your life...except maybe Irene.'

Sherlock frowned. 'Who the hell is Irene?'

John turned to Molly. 'Listen, maybe you should just go. I can sort this out with Sherlock.'

Sherlock immediately put his hand out. 'No, she's not going anywhere.'

John stepped forward and roughly took hold of his arm. 'Listen Sherlock...'

But as he touched Sherlock the taller man seemed to crumble and fall back onto one of the kitchen chairs. He cried out in shock and put his hands up in front of his face, as though to fend off an attack.

John looked shocked before trying to take a step forward towards his friend but Sherlock looked at him in fear and anger and put his hands out to stop him getting closer. 'You hit me.'

John let out a sharp laugh. 'Which time?'

Sherlock frowned and looked up at him. 'You kicked me...I was down on the ground and you were kicking me...I thought you were my friend.'

John sighed and Molly saw the pain of losing Mary wash over his features and it was probably that which led to his irresponsible outburst. 'Yes well you'd killed my wife...we called it quits.'

Sherlock let out a choked noise. 'I killed your wife? Molly?' He turned to her looking agonised and confused. 'Did I kill his wife?'

Molly shook her head. 'No, of course you didn't. Look John, this is getting out of hand. Just...just go and have a coffee with Mrs Hudson and let me explain this to Sherlock then I'll come and get you before I leave.

John took a moment, looking at both her and then Sherlock, then he nodded his head, turned on his heel and left.

**Looks like Sherlock's friendship with John is going from bad to worse at the moment, just as his relationship with Molly is intensifying. I hope you like how it's all progressing and how Sherlock is dealing, or not dealing, with all these revelations. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow, I'm feeling a bit guilty this morning for having slept in. Had over ten hours sleep and now it's nearly midday and I'm still in my pyjamas. Maybe I should just give up and make it a full on duvet day :). But before I do I should let you guys have this next chapter shouldn't I.**

**Enjoy! By the way, I'm glad most of you were on board with my portrayal of John. I do love his friendship with Sherlock but it is not without its problems. Hopefully he'll soften somewhat as we go forward...shall we see...**

**Chapter 6**

Molly followed John out part of the way and as she made her way back to the kitchen she heard the smash of something ceramic and Sherlock swearing repeatedly. It had her quickening her pace to get back to him.

She found him stood leaning on the kitchen side with his head hanging down and a mug smashed on the floor by the kitchen cupboards with coffee dripping down the doors.

'Hey, Hey, come on...calm down. It really isn't like John said. Let's make another coffee and I can tell you all about it.'

They ended up sat on the settee sipping their drinks as Molly told Sherlock everything she had come to learn about Mary Watson. Yes there were gaps in her knowledge, she'd never been privy to everything but hopefully she knew enough to enable Sherlock to understand the situation. She knew that knowledge was his touchstone, he needed information, facts that he could categorise and understand and control.

'So you see, she sacrificed herself for you...I suppose as a kind of penance for having shot you. She believed in you...knew you were worth her sacrifice. She wouldn't have done that for anyone lesser.'

Sherlock's hand touched the point where Molly knew his scar was. She also wondered how much more of this he could take. He needed to start hearing more positive aspects of his life, see more of the good.

'And who is Irene? John seems to think she's important to me but that name means nothing to me. I can't even seem to focus on any room in my mind palace although that doesn't mean she isn't in there somewhere.'

Molly sighed heavily. She didn't want to discuss Irene and even if she did she knew nothing about his relationship, if he'd had one, with a woman who had openly advertised herself as a dominatrix.

'Honestly, I don't really know that much about her. Maybe you need to ask John, I know he knows more than I do. Maybe he's right, maybe she'd be the person you'd want to be in a relationship with.'

She couldn't help how sad her voice sounded as she spoke and he leant forwards and touched her face, letting his fingers slide over her cheek to her jaw.

'Don't...don't do this Molly. I'm not him, not anymore. I'm me and I know how I feel about you.'

Molly smiled at him weakly but then sat up straighter. He didn't need her wallowing, he needed her to be strong for him. 'I tell you what, why don't you read some of John's blog? See yourself through his eyes, the man he actually thinks and knows you are...plus they're very funny at times. You guys love working together, solving puzzles and having adventures. Whilst you're doing that I'll go and speak to John. Maybe I can go and collect Rosie, it's about time you met your god-daughter; you're both very fond of each other.'

Sherlock nodded his head thoughtfully, he seemed lost in his own world. He still stood as Molly did, looking a bit distracted as she went and put their cups in the sink. She collected her coat and bag and was about to leave when he caught hold of her arm.

'Stay with me again tonight...after John and Rosie have gone.'

Molly felt her heart beat pick up a notch, she knew the dangers held within this request but she also knew she was weak when it came to him. She wanted him...always. Maybe they could keep it PG. though even as she thought that she knew she was kidding herself but she still acquiesced.

He pulled her closer and bent his head to kiss her and she returned it enthusiastically. She would never get used to his kisses and if this was to only be a short term thing the naughty part of her told her to get maximum enjoyment whilst she could.

She left him opening up his laptop to read the blog and she made her way downstairs to find John and Mrs Hudson in a heated debate.

'Well I think it's a good thing, how can it not be? That boy has been on his own for far too long.'

John threw his hands up. 'But it's not real. He's not himself.'

'You know what...I think it is the real him. The real him without all the baggage of his life weighing him down and telling him he should be something that he isn't. Hand on heart John, if Sherlock was going to love anyone it would be Molly.'

It was at that point that she entered the kitchen and the two of them looked up at her guiltily.

'It's OK, I don't mind you discussing it. I'm as conflicted myself. He's adamant he knows how he feels about me but I'm worried he's just clinging to me because he's scared of the memory loss.'

So, you know it's wrong then?'

Molly looked at John and sighed. 'Listen John, he's a grown man; we're both adults. And be honest, who's the most likely out of the two of us to get hurt if this all goes tits up...me! That's who. I'm not planning on moving too fast with him but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to give it a chance. Maybe Mrs Hudson's right...maybe these were feelings he repressed. At the end of the day if he gets his memories back and no longer wants to be with me I'll just have to accept it.'

John sat back in his chair and shook his head. 'I suppose you're right...it's not really going to do him any harm. And who knows...maybe a shag would be good for him. I've often thought it would.'

He chuckled at Molly's shocked expression and Mrs Hudson's cheer.

Molly told them both what she'd said to Sherlock and then she asked John if it was alright to pick up Rosie. In the end they agreed that Molly could pick her up at three pm at the end of her nursery session and bring her back to Baker St and in the meantime John would try to find an easy case to ease Sherlock back into work.

She spent the intervening hours catching up on some housework and endlessly thinking through everything that had happened with Sherlock in the last 24 hours. It was difficult in some ways to believe that he had finally admitted to having feelings for her. Even if they were false nothing would ever take away her memories of hearing him tell her he loved her or the feeling of his lips and his body pressed against her own.

As she packed an overnight bag she bit her lip and sat on the edge of her bed holding her toiletry bag as she tried to decide what she wanted from the evening and whether she could or should actually "shag him" as John had so eloquently put it. She had been thinking through the pros and cons since she'd left Baker St and she still hadn't decided what she should do. It came back to the battle between what she wanted to do and what she ought to do. Could she live with herself if they slept together and he eventually rejected her? But then again could she forgive herself if she'd had the opportunity to sleep with him and she'd passed it by...never to be offered it again.

It was a relief in a way to finally pick up Rosie. The little girl's face lit up when she saw Molly, toddling her way over whilst Molly signed her out. John had asked early on whether she would mind being on the list of authorised people and Molly tended to collect her at least once a week when John and Sherlock were on cases and running late.

She helped her put her shoes and coat on listening as she babbled away. Her speech was still quite undeveloped and difficult to follow but she nodded along and asked questions, loving just being a part of Rosie's life.

Luckily John had chosen a nursery close to Sherlock's flat so it didn't take the two of them very long to walk round, though they did stop off at the swings in the park round the corner. Rosie loved the swings and would happily have spent an hour on them but after ten minutes Molly's arms were getting tired from all the pushing and she was worried that it looked like it might rain.

When they got to Baker St Mrs Hudson opened the door and made a fuss of the toddler promising her a biscuit and a glass of milk.

'You two go on up and I'll bring some food and drinks up in a minute. John and Sherlock have just got back.'

It took a couple of minutes to get up the stairs with Rosie pulling herself up step by step. She was so stubborn and determined, just like her mother had been.

Finally they made it to the top and into Sherlock's flat and as soon as Rosie saw Sherlock she picked up her pace and held her arms out to him. 'Unca Locklock, Unca Locklock...'

Sherlock glanced nervously at John and Molly and then plastered a smile on his face. 'Rosie.'

As she reached him he bent down and swung her up before balancing her on his hip.

Molly watched the expression on his face soften as the little girl hugged him and started chattering to him.

She discreetly put her overnight bag down by the side of the settee before taking off her coat but she saw John had seen by the slight narrowing of his eyes and tightening of his lips.

She ignored him and concentrated on Rosie. The little girl had spotted Sherlock's bruise and was frowning.

'Unca Locklock got a hurt.' She spun around in Sherlock's arms so fast he had to put his hand out to stop her falling forward. She gestured to John. 'Daddy kiss better.'

That had the three adults chuckling as John looked askance for a moment. 'No Rosie...you do it, you'll be better.'

His daughter turned back around and used her tiny hands to try to pull herself higher up Sherlock's body until he lifted her. Then she pressed her lips against the bruise making him wince slightly.

Molly grimaced at him. 'Does it still hurt?'

He cast her a quick smile. 'Only the actual bruise itself. No headaches today.'

John nodded. 'That's good. And what about your memories? Any more? Are they coming back?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'In part, it's all dis-jointed though. It's like a beaded necklace that's broken and fallen on the floor. I'm picking up the odd item but none of it is stringing together in any kind of coherent way. It's damn frustrating...oh, sorry.'

He apologised to John clearly forgetting to mind his language in front of Rosie.

He ended up playing on the floor with Rosie, helping her pile up some wooden blocks and knock them down whilst Molly helped John put some dinner together in the kitchen.

'How was he today?' She asked.

John glanced at his friend and his daughter and shrugged. 'Not too bad. He's clearly lost none of his mental abilities when it comes to solving cases. He solved three just over e-mail...only minor cases but it's still a good sign.'

Molly wasn't sure whether to ask the next question but it had been eating her up since she'd left the flat earlier and she figured it was best to just spit it out. 'Did you tell him about Irene?'

She felt John look up at her but she concentrated on chopping the vegetables for the pasta dish they were making.

'Yes, I did. He checked his phone and found her messages and ringtone but still insisted that she meant nothing to him.'

'Oh...but you're disagree?'

Josh's sighed. 'I don't know. I mean, he constantly reminds me that I'm a shit detective so maybe I've got it all wrong. And do you want to know something else?'

This time she did meet his eyes, feeling nervous. 'Go on...what?'

'Mary always said that it wasn't Irene he loved. She always insisted it was you...maybe she was right. She normally bloody well was.' He chuckled and Molly smiled at her memories of his wife...but she had to admit it gave her a certain confidence.

The four of them spent a happy couple of hours together before John felt it was time he left in order to get Rosie to bed. Molly helped him pack up whilst Sherlock walked over to the window, looking out at the street below.

'I take it you're staying over tonight then?'

John indicated towards her bag and Molly knew she was blushing.

'Umm...yes I think so.'

'Well for what it's worth you have my blessing. I was too protective of him earlier and what's the worst that could happen? Maybe being intimate with someone will do him good in the long run. Anyway, we'd better get going. Good night Molly.'

He leant over and gave Molly a kiss on the cheek before picking up his daughter and saying his good nights to Sherlock. A minute or two later and they were both gone and Molly was alone with Sherlock.

**So what do you think? Is Molly making the right decision? What would you do? Personally, I'd climb him like a tree ;) xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up. I made the mistake of assuming I'd have time mid-week and it turns out I don't really. Anyway, I've given this a quick edit in order to get it up but apologies if there are any typos.**

**Chapter 7**

Sherlock turned to face Molly as she walked back into the flat and for a moment they stood at opposite ends of the room facing each other. As they did Sherlock cocked his head to one side questioningly and Molly smiled and nodded. She knew without words what he was thinking.

'Yes, we were stood like this the day you invited me to go and solve crimes with you.'

He smiled. 'You thought I was going to ask you to dinner.'

Molly blushed and ducked her head. 'Yes...stupid I know.'

'It wasn't. I should have done. More fool me. I won't make that mistake again. Molly Hooper, will you have dinner with me?'

She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. 'Is that a literal question or a euphemism?'

By now he was grinning in response. 'Oh a euphemism, definitely a euphemism. Now come here and kiss me.'

They met in the middle for what Molly could only describe as being a life altering kiss. It felt as if all of Molly's feelings for Sherlock came pouring out of her and he took them all and repaid them ten fold.

He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried them through to the bedroom and it was only as he put her back down on the floor that they broke apart, both breathing heavily.

'Wait, before we do this...one question. Are you a virgin?'

At this Sherlock frowned. 'I...I don't know, I don't think I am. I feel like I know what to do. Does it matter?'

Molly shrugged. 'I suppose not. I'd just feel weird taking your virginity.'

'As I can't remember my first time I suppose you are in a way, but I can't think of anyone better to give it to. Now stop talking.'

She chuckled as he moved his lips to her throat at the same time as his hands deftly started to undo the buttons of her blouse. She tried to make progress with his shirt but it felt like she was all thumbs.

Once her shirt was gone she shimmied out of her skirt and he indicated to her to lay back on the bed so he could spend his time touching and kissing and biting his way down her neck and to her breasts. His hands felt large on her skin, covering her breasts completely. She felt her hardened nipples rubbing against the palms of his hand and she wanted so much more from him.

As he took each breast in turn with his mouth she knew that somewhere in his past he had experience. His tongue was wickedly talented and she wondered just how good he might be at oral sex...but now wasn't the time. This time she just wanted to feel connected to him as intimately as possible.

He must have sensed how she felt because he stood back up and quickly divested himself of the rest of his clothing and Molly removed her pants until they were both completely naked. His body was gorgeous and she simply couldn't wait to get her hands and mouth on it. She gestured to him to lie down and then she straddled his hips before spending her time kissing his mouth and throat. She'd always wanted to kiss his neck...all those times in the lab of watching him at his microscope and dreaming of what she could do to him were finally a reality.

She told him as much and felt his chuckle as she kissed the moles and freckles down his neck.

'Next time maybe you can kiss me like this whilst I'm still sat on the stool in the lab. I bet I've had fantasies myself about you doing that.'

Molly wished she could believe that but this Sherlock seemed so different to the old Sherlock, so much more affectionate and open.

She could feel him hard and ready for her between her legs; rubbing against her centre in a way that had her moaning for more and she knew that this time they were more than ready; no need for more foreplay. Hopefully there would be time again later for them to be more leisurely, to explore each other more fully, but for now she just wanted him inside her.

She took her time sliding down onto him, watching the way his eyes rolled back in his head and his breathing shallowed out until they were fully connected. It was the most amazing feeling in the world and Molly had to take a moment before she felt able to start moving against him, rocking her hips and feeling his body starting to bring her to her climax.

He soon started to actively participate, his hands and mouth moving back to her breasts, urging her on and telling her how good she felt. She could feel herself getting closer and closer until he was the only thing in her world. She could feel everything, hear everything and she knew he was as close as she was. Just as she thought she couldn't take anymore he bit down on her nipple in just the right way and it tipped her over the edge into one of the most powerful orgasms she could ever remember.

She took him with her and felt him come, his body taut and rigid underneath her before they both collapsed back down onto the mattress breathing heavily.

She slid her hand around his neck and kissed his throat before moving back to kiss him once more but as she did she felt something between them shift imperceptibly. He tensed up ever so slightly and as she pressed her lips against his he didn't fully respond. She opened her eyes to find him looking past her towards the ceiling in a slightly puzzled, unfocused way and she felt her heart thud painfully in her chest.

She started to sit up and even as she did she reached for the sheet pulling it around her to cover herself up.

'Oh God...you remember don't you? Everything?'

He finally looked at her and it was only now that she really saw the difference between this Sherlock and the one she had just made love to. His eyes were ever so slightly colder and more calculating.

He swallowed and nodded.

Molly couldn't believe this was happening. She could still feel him softening inside her and yet it was like he was a stranger. All she wanted to do was to get out of there.

'I...I should go. Just...umm...can you...can you look the other way...please?'

He looked at her for a split second longer and then he turned his head and closed his eyes. Molly slid off him and hurriedly picked up her clothes before fleeing to the bathroom.

When she'd closed the door she squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to cry. How could this have all gone so terribly wrong? John had warned her not to do this and she hadn't listened; she'd been a fool...a stupid, lovesick fool.

She cleaned herself up and got dressed but when it came to saying goodbye she just couldn't face him. Instead she used the door to the kitchen and left that way. She retrieved her coat and bag and then she ran down the stairs wanting to be out of there before he even realised she was gone. Thankfully as she left the front door there was an empty cab making its way down the street and she hailed it.

As she sat and gave her address she looked up at his windows and saw him staring down at her, his body wrapped in the sheet she'd recently abandoned. His expression was unreadable, unlike her own emotions.

The cab driver must have sensed her distress because apart from asking if she was alright he left her to her own thoughts, only interrupting them once they'd arrived at her flat. She tapped her debit card onto the payment machine to cover the fare and then she made her way back up to her flat thinking how little she had expected to return in this way when she'd left happy and excited just a few hours before.

Toby lifted his head from his resting spot as she made her way in. She dumped her bags on the floor and went straight to her wine rack. A minute later and she almost collapsed onto her settee, already crying as she gulped down a mouthful of wine.

How was she ever going to face him again? What must he even think of her...would he deem that she had taken advantage of him when he'd been in a vulnerable state?

She heard her phone buzz in her bag with an incoming text but it was a while later before she finally got around to checking it.

**Let me know that you're home safe SH**

She frowned and stared at the text for a few seconds before pouring herself another wine. It was very unlike him to check up on her in this way. It didn't give anything away by way of feelings but it felt as if he was holding out an olive branch of sorts and for that she was grateful.

She replied to say that she had but she heard nothing back and in the end she fell into bed for a fairly sleepless night.

The next day she was in work and she was glad to be. She needed something to distract her from dwelling on the previous evening and how badly wrong it had gone.

She was wrist deep in the chest cavity of a Mr Simon Bidwell, aged 73, when the doors to the morgue swung open and John and Sherlock made their way in.

It was John who made his way over and spoke. 'Hey Molly, just wanted you to know the good news. Sherlock mentioned that you hadn't stayed over last night but it turns out that when he woke up this morning he had all his memories back. It's great isn't it.'

He grinned at her excitedly and she tried to muster up a smile as she replied that it was indeed good news.

Her eyes flicked to Sherlock who had been spending most of the time tapping away on his phone but their eyes met for only a moment before he looked back at his phone. She could see a blush high on his cheekbones that she wasn't sure she'd ever seen before but she knew she must be bright red herself with embarrassment.

John carried on. 'Listen, apparently there's been an attempted murder down near Twickenham so there might be some tests that we need running. They should come through in a couple of hours. Anyway, we'd best be off.'

Molly bid them both goodbye but a moment after they'd both left John hurried back in and made his way over.

'Hey, are you OK? Sherlock hasn't said much about you and I'm not sure whether he remembers saying he had feelings for you and...well, I'm worried. Are you gonna be OK? Do you need me to talk to him for you?'

Molly shook her head. 'No, it's alright. We knew this might happen...it's a good job I decided not to stay last night.'

John nodded. 'Yes, I suppose it is. Anyway, I'll catch up with you properly another time.'

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then left her to carry in her autopsy.

It was two hours later, when she checked her phone, that she saw there was another text from Sherlock. Looking at the time he must have sent it when he and John had been visiting earlier.

**We need to talk. I'll come to yours for 8.00 SH**

She felt her stomach drop. This could only be bad news for her heart and much as she didn't want to hear it she knew he was right. They had to sort this whole sorry mess out if they were to ever get their friendship back...if they ever could.

**Should I start with an apology or end with it because I get the feeling you're not going to be happy with how this situation has turned out so far. Poor Molly...but I have to admit that scene, of him getting his memories back after sex, was one of the first in my head when I came up with this fic idea. **

**Anyway, only one more chapter to go so here's hoping they can sort it all out. So...I'm sorry xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm so glad you all didn't shout at me for the last chapter but there always has to be a little bit of angst before the hopefully happy ending. Shall we see if they do make it through...**

**Chapter 8**

It took Molly far too long to decide what to change into when she got home. In the end she opted for comfort over style and wore a comfy pair of pyjama bottoms topped with a fleecy, hooded top. She felt like she was wrapped up in a hug and given how she strongly suspected the evening would go she knew a hug was just what she'd be needing.

Even though she was expecting him she still started in shock when the door buzzer sounded. He had a key from the days when he'd used her place as a bolt hole but she appreciated him not using it.

She released the front door lock remotely and left her own door on the catch and then she went to sit back down, nervously awaiting his arrival.

By the time she heard him push open her front door and then lock it behind him her heart was in her throat and she wondered if she'd even be able to speak.

'Molly.'

She glanced up to find him looking down at her with a serious expression on his face. He wasn't wearing his Belstaff and she wondered if he'd hung it up on the hooks near the front door.

'Wine?'

He held up the bottle of red and she smiled and nodded her head. At least he'd come bearing a peace offering even if he couldn't offer her himself.

She stood and followed him through to the kitchen and watched as he took two glasses down from the cupboard and then expertly uncorked it before pouring it out. Throughout all this time neither of them spoke.

'Shall we?' He gestured to the front room and when she sat back down on the settee he sat next to her, leaning forwards, looking thoughtful and holding the glass between his knees.

'I...I want to apologise for last night.'

She looked up at him in surprise. This was not the line she was expecting him to open with.

'What? Why?'

He glanced at her. 'Well...we'd just finished making love and I...' he waved one hand in a confused kind of gesture and she found herself wanting to reaching out to catch it, to hold it in her own for a moment...but she didn't.

'That's OK...I mean, it's not OK but it wasn't your fault. I should never have allowed it to happen. I mean, I knew how you really felt about me. I just...I'm so sorry, I got caught up in the idea...the fantasy of you having feelings for me...and you were so nice, so different...'

He took a deep breath and Molly waited for the axe to fall, the moment where he'd tell her that it was him and not her...that he was sorry that he couldn't love her, and hopefully that he'd want them to still be friends. She took a shaky sip of her wine for Dutch courage.

'I am still him you know, I remember who I was when I was with you and how I felt. It's as though he was me without the bad parts...without all the damage and years of emotional baggage and hurt. He was a much better version of me and I'm sorry Molly...I can't be him for you. I wish I could but I can't.'

Molly took a juddering breath and felt her heart split into two at his words. She'd known they were coming but hearing them was so much worse than she would have ever thought possible. She could feel tears starting to leak out of her eyes and trickle down her face.

Sherlock glanced at her and she saw pain flit across his features, he knew he was hurting her.

'That being said I...I would like for us...for you to think about whether you could give me a chance. I buried my feelings for you so deep that I thought I could ignore them forever but now I know...God, Molly, now I know what it's like to kiss you...to feel your skin against my own...to feel myself so intimately connected to you that I didn't know where you ended and I began and I want it...I want it all.' He paused and took a breath. 'Could you...would you ever be able to consider loving me the way you loved him?'

Molly sat in stunned silence. It was as though all the air had left the room. Had she really heard him correctly?

'You...you want us to be together? To have a relationship?'

Mutely he nodded his head and when his eyes locked with hers she saw fear in them; fear that she might reject the real him.

'But I've always loved you...you know that...how can you think that I wouldn't still love you now?'

He shrugged. 'Because he was better, kinder, more open...that isn't who I really am...not now.'

She put down her glass and quickly wiped away her tears. 'But who you really are is who I fell in love with. I've never stopped loving you...the real you...the you with memories and history and damage...after all aren't we all damaged in some way?'

There was silence and Molly could feel her heart beating in her chest, she could feel herself magnetically drawn for him, the tension in the air so thick you could almost slice it.

It was Sherlock who broke it, standing suddenly, making Molly jump a little.

'Maybe I should go.'

Molly stood, feeling confused. 'Really?'

He glanced at her briefly and brushed a hand over his face. 'I don't want to pressure you.'

She saw his uncertainty, his confusion and she understood it. All his adult life he had eschewed romance, relationships...even sex and now here he was going back on all of that...for her.

She caught his hand and he turned to her, still not fully meeting her eye.

'We can go as slow as you need to Sherlock, I just need to know that we have a chance.'

Slowly, nervously she placed her hand on his cheek, letting her thumb slide across his cheekbone and finally he looked at her and his gaze sent a drizzle of lust sliding down through her body. She stood on her tiptoes and pulled him too her for a kiss. Strangely, somehow, it felt as if this was their first kiss. It was tentative and exploring, but so damned sexy.

As it progressed she was grateful for Sherlock wrapping his arms around her body and holding her close to him because she started to feel as though her legs wouldn't hold her up. It might have all started out fairly chastely but this kiss was rapidly consuming her, making her want more of him...more than he might want to give.

Finally they broke apart breathing heavily and Sherlock rested his forehead against Molly's.

'God, Molly, I want you so much. It's like a locked room has been opened inside me and all these feelings have flooded out, my need for you is overwhelming me.'

She was still wrapped up in his embrace and she kissed the base of his neck before letting her tongue slowly slide up his throat.

He groaned and his reaction gave her a bit more confidence and she moved her hands to his shirt. She let her finger move in a circle around the top button and she looked up at him, finding him gazing down at her with eyes filled with desire.

'We can go as slow as you like...or...'

She saw him swallow heavily before he spoke. 'Or what?'

'Or we can pick up where we left off...'

She undid the button and then leant forward to kiss the patch of skin that had been revealed and she felt his hands thread through her hair. She opened another button and let her mouth move downwards. She could smell light traces of his expensive cologne and his skin tasted clean and fresh. It made her mouth water...she wanted to kiss every inch of him.

She pulled the material out from his trousers and undid the last few buttons and then she let her hands splay out on his stomach feeling his muscles taut and hard just under his skin. There was no part of him that didn't turn her on.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' His voice was low and husky and it sent shivers down her spine.

She looked up and nodded her head. 'Are you?'

He smiled and in one swift move he picked her up. She squealed a little but automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his hands on her backside holding her securely to him. They took a moment to kiss once more and this time his tongue snaked into her mouth and she let her hands weave into his hair until she could lightly tug on his curls. He let out a delicious growl and started to carry her through to her bedroom.

'And just so you know Molly I wasn't a virgin. My experience might be quite old but it isn't forgotten and I plan to show you just what I do remember and, let's just say I don't plan on you being disappointed.'

She chuckled and shook her head at his confidence. It seemed his ego was back in full force and she loved it. She liked the fact that he could be dominant and demanding and intensely focussed and carrying that through to the bedroom was making her body physically react, her muscles clenching and unclenching and wetness pooling between her legs.

He kicked open the bedroom door making Toby, who had been sleeping on the bed, jump in shock and slope away into a different room. Lightly he dropped Molly down onto the bed and then he shucked off his jacket and shirt before sitting on the chair at the side of the bed so he could remove his shoes and socks.

Molly moved to take her top off but he wagged a finger at her. 'No you don't, that's my job.'

She grinned and instead watched as he slid his trousers and pants off leaving him naked, his erection jutting out in front of him.

It was the work of a moment for her to scoot forwards and wrap her hand around it. She had no intention of this night being all about her...she wanted to turn him on as much as he was her.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, obviously working out what she intended. 'Molly, you don't have to...'

She smiled as she looked up at him. 'I know, but I want to.'

Slowly she let her tongue swirl around the head of his penis, loving the noises it pulled from Sherlock's throat. She took her time, ghosting her mouth around his cock a couple of times feeling his hips jerk forwards even as he fought to control his reactions.

Finally she took him fully into her mouth, taking him deeper with each pass until he was almost hitting the back of her throat. She knew she wouldn't be able to do this for long...she didn't actually want him to come...that would just cut the fun short.

A moment later and he pulled back, breathing heavily. 'God, you need to stop.'

She smirked, loving how undone he already looked and that it was her that was causing it.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and when he opened them and looked at her her mouth ran dry at the look of pure animalistic hunger in his eyes.

He moved forwards and took hold of the hem of her top. 'It was like making out with a teddy bear...this...needs to go...' Then he pulled it over her head and threw it to one side. His faux anger made her giggle as she lay back on the bed watching him climb over her. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him look more gorgeous than in this moment as he held himself above her. Her hands automatically went to his shoulders, her legs opening to accommodate him.

As he kissed her once more she could feel the full length of him pressing her into the mattress. His chest was crushed against her breasts and his erection nudging at her core through her pyjamas and she wished she was naked herself.

She let her hands move over his back, feeling small scars down the length of his spine and promising to herself that she would soon kiss each and every one. She hated how he put himself in danger but she also knew she could and would never expect him to change that part of him.

His kiss made her dizzy, sucking the air from her lungs and leaving her desperate for more. He definitely kissed more confidently and more expertly than he had without his memories. If she'd thought he was a good kisser then he was breathtaking now. She already knew that she would never kiss another...even if her and Sherlock were to part she was ruined for other men.

Slowly he kissed down her neck before sucking the skin at its base marking her. As he kissed his way down to her breasts she ran her hands through his hair once more, loving how silky it felt. She'd always loved his curls and now she couldn't get enough of feeling them.

As his mouth closed over her nipple she arched her back and moaned at the feeling of him sucking and biting in such a way it seemed to awaken nerve endings in her core that she hadn't known existed. It had her squirming and pressing herself against his cock, trying to seek out some satisfaction.

A moment later and he sat up making her mewl and pout, wanting to feel him against her once more.

This time it was his turn to smirk as he hooked his fingers around the waist band of her pyjamas and slowly pulled them down her legs until she was bare.

She reached her arms out to him but he shook his head and instead picked up her left leg and placed a kiss at the side of her knee, his eyes never leaving hers as he gradually kissed his way along the inside of her thigh.

Molly couldn't believe that he was doing this, she had never truly believed that he'd be the kind of guy to do oral let alone tease her in this way.

By the time he had finished kissing his way down her other thigh her body was almost shaking with need. Seeing his head between her thighs as he finally put his mouth on her had her loudly moaning before biting the back of her hand to try to silence herself.

Sherlock lifted his head and smiled. 'Don't worry about me Molly I like you vocal. Tell me what you like.'

He varied his style a little at first learning from her reactions what she liked and within a couple of minutes she was crying out his name as she came.

It left her boneless on the bed but as he moved back up and over her she couldn't help but smile and pull him to her for a deep, passionate kiss that left them both wanting more. They seemed to move as one as she lifted her legs to cradle his hips and he positioned himself at her entrance and then he gradually filled her, pushing into her until there was no more left of him to give. For a moment he held himself still. His hand moved to brush a tendril of hair from her face as he gazed at her and his expression was so soft and loving that it almost brought tears to her eyes. She could still barely believe this was happening.

He bent his head and lightly kissed her before kissing her cheek and her jaw and as he did he withdrew ever so slightly and then pushed back in. His movements were gradual but each one sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, building her back up towards another climax. Bit by bit, moment by moment he increased the intensity and power of his movements until he was thrusting inside her.

Her hands moved to his backside encouraging him on, feeling herself getting closer and closer but it was only when he begged her to come for him that she finally tipped over the edge. As she did she knew she was taking him with her. She felt his body tense under her hands, he slammed into her and held himself as he cried out her name and she could feel his cock pulsing deep inside her. For the first time in her life she wished she wasn't on the pill and that this coupling could have ended with her pregnant. She wanted him, wanted his child, but that was too much...she already had so much more than she had ever expected.

He gave her one last kiss and then moved to one side watching as she shimmied off the bed to go and clean up.

Before she left the bathroom she took a moment to look at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, letting her fingertips slide over the slight mark that he'd left on her neck. She smiled a little and then took a deep breath. She wondered which Sherlock she would see when she went back into her bedroom...she also wondered whether she'd have any chance of getting him to spend the night. She suspected not and it was that nervousness that had her slipping on a thin dressing gown before going back in.

When she got there he was reclining in her bed, covers pooled at his naked waist with his eyes closed and his hands steepled beneath his chin; seemingly deep in thought.

She paused for a moment at the door and wondered whether she should disturb him.

He opened one eye and frowned. 'Come on in Molly, why are you hanging about in the doorway?'

'Oh umm...sorry.'

'No need to be sorry, it's your bedroom. I'm the one intruding.'

She went round to her side of the bed and sat up next to him with her feet tucked underneath her.

At this he opened his eyes fully and leant up on his elbow. 'You're nervous. Why?'

At this she shrugged. 'I don't know. This...us...I'm not sure how it works.'

He tilted his head slightly and gave her a slow smile. 'You're the relationship expert. How would you like it to work?'

'So it is a relationship then? Not just sex?'

'No Molly, not just sex.'

'Would you...umm...stay over?'

'You mean spend the night?' He flopped back down onto the bed and closed his eyes again. 'I thought that was a given...now if you don't mind I need to file what I've learnt into your room in my mind palace. I'm assuming you want me to remember how to bring you to orgasm.'

He smirked as he said the last few words and it made her giggle. She took off her dressing gown and threw it on the floor and then she snuggled down under the covers and turned out the light. She lay there for a moment staring up at the ceiling and thinking through what he had said and then she nodded her head to herself before rolling next to him and moving his arm so she could rest her head against his chest. She felt him tense for a moment but then he relaxed and she felt his hand move to her waist and he pulled her closer. A few minutes later and she was fast asleep.

Sherlock lay in the dark listening to her breathing and wondering at how much his world view had changed in the last week. It seemed that the very act of forgetting had made him remember just how much he loved her and he wouldn't change that now for anything. He was hers, wholly and completely, forever, til death do them part.

**Epilogue**

It was two days later before John finally tracked Sherlock down. Sherlock had made his way back to Baker St when Molly had made it clear that she had to go back to work and taking a 'sickie' was not going to happen...much to his disgruntlement.

As he climbed the stairs an exasperated looking John appeared in the doorway to his flat.

'Thank God, I was contemplating calling Lestrade and reporting you missing. Where the fuck have you been?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes and made his way past his friend.

'You know you're not my mother don't you John? I seem to remember I'm a grown man and therefore able to stay out if I want to.'

'So shoot me, l was worried about you. Let's not forget that you've only just got over a head injury.'

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. 'Pfft, it wasn't that bad.'

He heard John snort. 'Not that bad. You were unconscious for almost 48 hours and it majorly messed with your personality...'

Sherlock took a step back and swivelled round to face his friend.

'Hang on, can we just sort something out...I may have been a little different but I was still me with that head injury...granted I had forgotten a lot of my past but I was fundamentally the man I always have been.'

John coughed out a laugh and folded his arms across his chest. 'Oh really, so that's why you were mooning after Molly Hooper for the best part of a week or have you forgotten? I didn't mention it before because I'm sure you're embarrassed but let's not pretend you were "the same man you've always been"'. He used his fingers to air quote and Sherlock felt his anger rise up inside himself.

He took another step closer and narrowed his eyes. He was tempted to just punch John but he knew that, with John, violence shouldn't be the answer. That's was his friend's problem not his own.

'For your information John, not that you deserve it, but I have just spent the last two days in Molly's bed...and it was quite easily the best two days of my life. I intend for her to move in with me here as soon as I can persuade her and in time make her my wife. If you, or anyone else for that matter, has a problem with that then I am more than happy to cut you or them out of my life for good.'

'You...you were with Molly?'

'Yes. Losing my memories just made me realise who was really important in my life. And whilst we're talking of that time can I just say that the way you treated Molly was appalling...you were smug and patronising and I expect you to make an apology. Do we understand each other?'

John stood for a moment with his mouth open as he took in the force of Sherlock's anger. The detective wondered if his friend wasn't just going to turn on his heel and walk out but at the last minute he saw him deflate somewhat and nod his head.

'OK, you're probably right. I was just trying to protect you but I agree that I went to far and I will tell her that I'm sorry.' There was a best of silence and then all of a sudden John smiled. 'So, you and Molly then...you finally got yourself a real girlfriend? How does it feel? I'd say I can't imagine you in a relationship but with Molly I suppose I can. I...I'm happy for you, for both of you Sherlock.'

Sherlock returned his smile feeling a weight lifting from him. He really hadn't wanted to fall out with John and it was good to have him fully on side. 'Honestly, it feels amazing and I never want to forget just how good it feels to love her.'

**I know a few of you were unhappy about how John acted in this story and many of you want Sherlock to punch him and I hope the epilogue helps just a little bit. I contemplated the punch but in the end I didn't want to make Sherlock as bad as John when it comes to reacting with violence, I honestly think that Sherlock is the better man in that regards.**

**Anyway, there we have it...the end of yet another story. I hope you aren't getting bored with me yet because I still have more to come. Do you want a long fic or a short fic next?**


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